It's a man's world
by rainbowguard
Summary: Bruce Banner, genius as he is, cannot help but feel like an idiot next to Clint. That man has something over him, and there an attraction that cannot be denied. Rated M because possible sex scenes.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **_It's a man's world._  
**Author**: rainbowguard  
**Fandom**: Avengers (Clint x Bruce)

At the end of the day, Bruce knew he would get the visit of Clint. He always did. Not that he didn't like to see him, of course he did -he even thought that that was the best part of his day- but he didn't like the implications : every day, he felt closer to him, and that was a problem. There would be a day, Bruce knew, when he would not be able to maintain his heartbeat to normal, a day when something would happen that was too much to handle ; there would be a day when Clint would want Bruce, and get the Hulk instead. Not only was it painful, it was _dangerous_ – Bruce would not be able to forgive himself if any harm would come to Clint by his fault.

He looked around him. He was in his lab, in the 78th story of the Stark Tower, New York City.. A place Stark called the Hulk's Cage : it was designed so that, if the Hulk were to come out, Bruce could not harm anyone. He could not smash the glass that surrounded the lab and the entire story, the floor was designed not to crack under its weight, and there was even an alarm : everyone would leave at once. The whole building, and even, Stark assured, the whole block. He could not hurt anyone, and that was a relief. Of course, Bruce knew how to stay calm and focused in every situation, he had to ; but Clint almost always took him off guard. Somehow, he was unable to be calm around Clint.

He was alone, as he most often was ; the other scientists feared him. He didn't mind, however : he preferred loneliness, and he felt that this way, no one could steal his research, do experiments, or question his methods. The sun was setting, it would be twilight soon. He ought to go home. But he hadn't gone home in weeks : most of the time, he slept here, in his lab. The other cage was worth this one, and his apartment was owned by Shield. He knew he was under surveillance, he didn't have to like it. At least, this place was owned by Stark, and that meant his standards applied. And that he liked much better. Bruce got back to his computer and his research ; maybe, he thought, if I appear to be occupied, maybe Clint would leave him alone.

But, as he soon learnt, that was not Clint's style. Hours later, when he finally looked up to stretch, it was dark entirely ; but he still found Clint watching him quietly, sitting on a stool, the palms of his two hands on the seat, leaning forward. He was wearing his usual smile, amused. How long he had been here, Bruce could not tell ; what was sure is that he hadn't heard him at all.

"Are you surprised to see me, Banner ?" Clint asked, as he noticed Bruce looking at him.

"No, I had figured you would come. What surprises me is that I didn't hear you come in."

Clint let out a quick laugh. " With your legendary concentration, that doesn't surprises me." He got up, came close and put his hands on Bruce's desk. "I was actually here all day : Tony had a little nest made for me from the start. Up here." With his head, he gestured toward the ceiling. "You know, in case SHIELD wanted you .. looked after."

Bruce didn't know what angered him the most : that Clint was keeping an eye on him and reported to SHIELD, or that he called Stark _Tony. _Probably both, he heard a little voice answer. "Clint, you're a stalker."

Hawkeye burst out laughing. "I probably am, yes. Although watching you all day is worth it : you're a quite fun person to stalk. Do you know how cute you get when you do things you probably don't realize you do ?"

Bruce fought every instinct he had not to blush and smile stupidly. Clint found him _cute_. But he didn't think it too good to focus on. Instead, he asked : "What do you mean ?"

Clint apparently had an answer already waiting. He straightened up, folded his arms, and explained, the most seriously he could : "Well, most of the time, when you think, you either bite a pencil, or you eat your glasses. That is, when you're not desperate or stuck ; in which case, you sit, close your eyes, hide your face in one hand, elbow on the table." Clint smirked, and Bruce blurted out : "I don't do that. I never do that."

Bruce's feeble attempt at talking was getting him nowhere : Clint was standing on the other side of his desk, and if he reached out, he could touch him. He could smell his aftershave on his skin, but maybe that was just his imagination. Either way, Clint was driving him mad, he thought. He needed space. But whatever he would do, Barton would mimic.

"Yes, you do. Look at your pencils, or the branches of your glasses." Clint smiled, effortlessly. He has spent all day in this lab, up there, alone, and yet he was irresistible. How did he do that ? Bruce was sure that his own shirt was messed up under his lab coat, his socks didn't match, and he had not cared what he looked like for days. He probably even had a beard. And he dared not think of his hair. He probably looked awful. He was clean, that he knew. Well, as clean as he could, after spending an entire day in the heat of his lab. Clint had spent the same day in the lab, and yet he was perfect in every aspect : clean-shaven, his hair was done, his shirt was not wrinkled.. He even had rolled his sleeves up a bit to show his arms. Perfect. He was perfect.

After a second he realised Clint was looking at him, his head bent a little sideways, visibly very amused. Bruce cleared his throat. He hadn't meant to stare at him, but he had gotten lost in his thoughts again. "Sorry, I was, uh .. Thinking." He looked down and took off his glasses, glanced at the branches. There were marks of bites, he saw ; Clint was right.

"You haven't eaten all day. And by the look of you, you haven't left this place in days." Clint's voice was pleasant enough, but Bruce could sense that he was not very pleased with him. He looked at him, only to see that Clint did not looked pleased either. He was in big trouble. He cleared his throat once more. "Well, you know how it is.." "No, I do not." Clint's voice was steel. "I do not know, nor do I wish too. The only think I care about is that you don't end up starving. Let's go find you something to eat." Bruce could see that there was no arguing, but still, he said, hopelessly : "I'm fine, I'm not hungry."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Was there a question in my last sentence ?" "No, but .." "Then don't answer. Take off the white long thing you have on your shoulders , put on your jacket, let's go. No arguing." he added, when he saw Bruce open his mouth again.

Bruce's heart was pounding in his chest ; he didn't know if he could handle an entire evening with Clint. Well, actually, he knew he could not. He tried rejecting the proposition again, but as he noticed a muscle in Clint's jaw strengthening, he knew he had better accept. So, almost against him, he took off his lab coat, crossed the room to hang it next to everyone else's and took his jacket. Before putting it on, he said, as a feeble attempt to avoid what he viewed as a very dangerous evening with a man who made him lose every control he had on himself : "I don't have my wallet with me." Clint loosened up, and smiled. "That's okay. I wasn't planning on letting you pay."


	2. Chapter 2

In the street, no one could hardly notice them. Hawkeye had the talent of being completely invisible, it would seem. As for Bruce, he was walking awkwardly, trying not to bump into anyone. It was true that after years of living in India, New York seemed almost desert, especially at this time of night ; but he didn't like being bumped into too much. Especially not tonight. He was already too nervous, and he did not know how much of anything he could take. Clint was leading him, street after street, alley after alley, completely silent, in the heart of the City. After a few minutes of walking, Bruce started to find the silence too overwhelming. He needed to calm down. He thought of a few questions to ask him, but as he was about to talk, he realized : Clint, to respond, might start to walk by his side.. As stupid as it sounded, Bruce was unable to accept that. _Stop it_, he scolded himself. _You're a grown man, not a hormonal teenager ! You can handle this._

Suddenly, Clint stopped to turn around, and, too occupied to notice, Bruce bumped right into him. He looked up for a second, and saw a surprised but somewhat pleased Clint. He looked away almost immediately and mumbled an apology that made Clint roar with laughter. "We're here. I was going to ask you if Chinese food was okay." Bruce nodded and straightened his shirt. "Don't even try. You look like a mess, Banner. A fine mess, sure, but a mess still." Without waiting for an answer, he entered the restaurant. Stunned, Bruce stood still for a second. His heart had stopped. His thoughts were getting muddled up as he stood, hopelessly. In an attempt to clear his mind, he shook his head, took a deep breath, and followed Clint.

Inside, he found him already sitting at a table for two, talking to a waitress. As Bruce sat, he understood that Clint had ordered for both of them, and was sitting, relaxed, hanging on two feet of his chair, looking at him. Clearing his throat, Bruce attempted to talk : "That's ... a nice restaurant. Do you come here often ?" Clint, once more, laughed merrily, but gave no answer ; he kept on watching Bruce as he grew more and more embarrassed. He rubbed his hands nervously, waiting to see if he should say more or just wait silently for their meal. Just as he opted for the second one, Clint leaned forward and asked how was going his research. "Well, very well. Well, I think. It's hard to know, you know, when you're in that stage of .. research .." Bruce knew he was getting mixed up, and couldn't even speak straight, but somehow, something prevented him from silence. This way, he thought, I can take my mind off of him. If only. So Bruce went on talking, at first awkwardly, but as his mind came back to him, he was getting more and more passionate. When he finally reached a topping point of his research, he stopped for a second, and realised that the food was already on the table ; and by the look on Clint's plate, it had been here a while. _Oh, God. _That time, he was sure, he had made a fool of himself. But, on the other side on the table, Clint pressed him to go on. "I don't understand 90% of it, but you sound very interesting." He finished his plate, and sat back once again. He was waiting for Bruce to start speaking again, that was plain to see, but Bruce had no idea what he had already said, and most of all, he did not wanted to be a bore. He looked down at his plate and found tangerine chicken waiting for him. _That looks delicious_. So he picked up his fork and started to eat, aware that Hawkeye was eyeing his every move. "Where's Natasha ?" was the only question he could find he hoped would take Clint to look elsewhere, but even that didn't work.

Impassibly, he answered : "Gone back to her spying days, I guess. I don't really know. We're not in the same department." "Fury didn't say ?" "Fury doesn't say much of anything, Bruce. He just gives me my orders." "Right, right. Which are ? Make sure that Banner doesn't lose it ?" Clint chuckled. "Actually, it's more of a make sure Banner doesn't experiment on himself again." Bruce finished his plate and drank some water before answering. "Well, you can be sure I won't be doing that again."

Clint leaned towards Bruce, the closer he could with the table still between them. "What, experiments or dinner with me ? Cause you can be sure I'll be wanting to do the last one again."

Bruce swallowed his drink as he tighten his grip on the chair. _Don't lose it_, he was urging himself. _Whatever you do, don't lose it_. If only Clint would get away, because he couldn't. He was paralysed by fear, but also something more, something much stronger that whispered to him "Lean closer.". But he could not, could he ? His heart was pounding inside his chest like crazy. That time, he was sure, he could smell Clint's aftershave. That time, it wasn't his imagination but his senses. He felt the urge to let go of everything, reach out and just touch him. Just for a second, just touch him. It was crazy, he knew, but it was there, electrifying every one of his nerves. He needed to touch him like he needed to leave, to flee. He could feel, little by little, his entire body choosing to extend his hand, he even let go of the leg of the chair he was holding. But, the second he decided he wanted Clint, the ringing of his phone shrilled. It took the both of them by surprise, but whatever he felt, Clint chose not to show it and answered right away.

Bruce had no idea what was going on but he felt relieved. He closed his eyes for just a second, thanking God he had not touch Clint. What was he thinking ? He was a monster, he was not fit to touch anyone, even less someone like Clint. Someone he _liked,_ he realized, in shock. But Clint stood up, completely different from the Clint Bruce was sitting opposite to a few seconds before. "Yes, sir." was everything Bruce heard of the conversation, and yet it was enough for him to deduce: Fury wanted something of him. Clint threw some money on the table, and, after a mumbled "have to go" and without looking at Bruce, he left, in a hurry.

Bruce had not moved, he could not move. Everything had happened to fast, and, for the second time of his life, he didn't understand what was happening to him,to his body. He knew that he was better if he avoided any physical contact, but there was something new : he now longed for it. He put his head in his arms, elbows on the table. _What is going on ? Get a grip, Bruce, this is real life. You can't just touch someone, especially not you ! _Bruce knew all that, of course. But it seemed as he was forgetting everything the moment Clint appears.

How long he had stayed there, desperate, he couldn't say. But at one point, the waitress came up to him and said : "Are you okay, sir ?" "Yes, yes, I'm fine, thank you. I'll, uh, let you do your job, I'm sorry." He smiled weakly, and left the restaurant. He could feel his sense of alarm rising up, his heart was still pounding. He was losing control. He knew he was in the middle of New-York. I have _got_ to calm down, dammit. He took deep breaths, one after the other, until he felt confident enough to go back to his lab. He walked as fast as he could, almost running at times, until he saw the huge Stark tower. Relieved, he rushed in.

How he was able to take the elevator, open his lab, he had no idea. His mind was filled with Clint again. He took off his jacket, as calmly as he could, in case Fury had sent somebody else. He jumped to his desk and took up his research. Hopefully, the intensity of the gamma radiation in the North of Sweden would take his mind off of everything.


	3. Chapter 3

"How's it going on the Banner front ?"

It was the end of their meeting, and Clint was about to leave as Fury called out to him. _I knew there was something more than just a report. _"Fine, Sir."

"Nothing to notice ? No tension, no nervousness ?"

"He hadn't been living in the world since his incident, Sir, I think nervousness is to be expected of him."

"Of anyone, yes. Of Banner, it is to be feared. Contain him. Keep him where we can monitor and watch him. No more running around innocent people with him. Is that understood ?"

Choosing to ignore the underlying threat, Clint crossed his arms and asked what was really on his mind : "Does that mean you won't be choosing anyone else to guard him, Sir ?"

"I won't. Back to work."

"Yes, Sir." Clint contained his frustration. _You're a soldier, and soldiers obey. Even when they don't like the orders._

But watching Banner was a lot more than he could take, and he hated every minute of it. To be honest, he wanted nothing more than being let alone, and especially away from Banner. To be even more honest, he was thankful to have been chosen for the mission. That way he could monitor what to say to Fury, and he could also look after Bruce. Although he was more likely to starve than anything else.

Clint went back to the Stark Tower as swiftly as he could : one aspect of the Banner mission was to watch him himself as much as possible, which meant few hours of sleep. That, he could manage ; after all, he had been a spy in the most dangerous situations. He was used to sleep deprivation, and was thriving under it. Another was discretion, and so he entered the Tower at the back entrance, and he was keen on getting no one to notice him. Instead of taking the elevator, he took the steps : watching Banner was the same as doing nothing ; he needed to keep his strength any way he could. _Maybe I could get Banner to go running. That could be funny. _As he got back to his "nest", Clint noticed that Bruce had gone back to work. He seldom did anything else ; that man was passionate about these gamma things, that was plain to see. Earlier, at the restaurant, he had gotten so lost in his speech that Clint had been impressed : he understood nothing of what Bruce was saying, and he could not understand how someone could have such passion for such a boring subject. Sports, books, tv, cinema .. all that he could understand, even science. But Gamma radiation ? Fury had given him all the papers Bruce had written about it, they were there, next to him. But every time he opened one, he either fell half asleep, got a headache, or read it with Bruce's voice, and that made him laugh a bit too much.

Clint chose a comfortable position, and started his watch. It was already around two in the morning, but Bruce didn't seem to want to sleep, as he was fretting around his desk with surprising energy. _Maybe that's why he doesn't eat. When he does, he can't stay still. _That was interesting to know. Little by little, Clint acquired a lot of information about Bruce : what he does when he thinks he was alone, what he eats when he is really hungry, his morning routine. It was funny, though, watching Bruce live : he was almost like a robot at times ; at others, he was so deeply .. _human_. No matter what Fury says, Clint thought, Bruce Banner is a human being, and I shouldn't not be ordered to watch him live. He is not a zoo animal. Clint would say so at the next report, he vowed to himself, but one part of him wasn't happy about that : _if I don't do it, somebody else will._

Down in the lab, Banner took off his glasses and sat. For an instant, he looked truly exhausted. Clint believed that the only reason Bruce worked that much is because he needed this exhaustion ; that way, the Hulk could not come out. _He is as afraid of the Hulk as we are_, Clint realized. That, at his great surprise, just made him want to go down and hug him. To take him in his arms, kiss his head, and whisper "Don't worry. Everything is going to be okay.". Clint could sense Bruce's desperation at that moment, he could sense his fear and his anguish.

That was too much. Clint wasn't really a nice person, he knew ; he had done things he was not proud of, awful things, unacceptable things ; he was a cold blooded killer, a soldier for an army of spies and renegade ; but at this very moment, it was too much for him to handle. Clint got up ; he wasn't going to let Bruce feel this anguish. He could not.

As he was about to make his descent, Bruce turned off the lights in the lab, leaving only a single, feeble light at the far end of the lab. Clint froze. Bruce took off his lab coat, tidied his desk, and whispered, so quietly : "Good Night." and disappeared in the adjoining room, where he slept. Clint felt relieved, but at the same time he was still worried. Bruce had understood he was there, and had gone to hide his pain. To follow him was too much of an intrusion, ans Clint already felt like too much of an intruder. Bruce needed a private life as well.

Clint sighed quietly and sat back. He ought to sleep as well, he knew. As he lay back, his mind wandered, and went back to that scene in the restaurant, a few hours before. _Hours_ .. it felt like days. Clint didn't know what had happened to him, why he had leaned so close to Bruce. He regretted it when he saw the expression of pure pain and fear on Bruce's face, but, against all his wishes, he could not move. Looking at his face, Clint had wanted to toss the table aside and just .. Just .. Do what, exactly ? Hug him ? Kiss him ? Shag him ? All three of these solutions he liked, but they were in the middle of a restaurant. And more than that, Fury apparently knew about it. The walk in the city that never sleeps, the disappointing meal, the conversation .. How much did he knew ? Clint didn't know what angered him the most : that he had been a dick to Bruce or that Fury knew apparently everything on everyone. Clint put his hands on the back of his head as he looked at the ceiling. _What is wrong with me ? _Bruce Banner was a simple job. He hadn't talked to him much during the avengers initiative, and to be honest, he hadn't really had time, with everything that was going on. But now .. Now Bruce Banner was dangerous. And attractive. Very attractive.


	4. Chapter 4

When he woke up a few hours later, the day hadn't yet begun. After a quick glance to the lab, he grunted and stretched ; hopefully, he was up before Bruce. He got up, and found himself craving a shower. Surely Banner had one, in his room next to the lab ; but somehow he might not like waking up at the sound of Clint taking a shower. It could be funny, though, watching him come into the bathroom, curious of whom was using his shower and finding out a very naked Clint Barton smiling at him from across the shower glass. Funny and interesting ; Bruce's reaction was something he could really look forward to. But he had to be reasonable ; his mission was to keep Bruce calm, not provoke him. _That's unfortunate._ Clint got down from his nest and into the locker room designed for the scientists that had a life other than the Stark Research Lab. In other words, for everyone except Banner. Stark had given him the key to a locker where Clint had put his stuff : clothes, arrows, and all the things he needed for day to day life when he had to watch Bruce 24/7. There were showers there, too ; and at this time of day, they would be desert. That would be a relief, because last time he found out the showers were unisex. Last time, he had also found out that the women in this lab were .. friendly. A bit too friendly for him. After his shower, Clint shaved and dressed. He would get out and found breakfast for Bruce and himself, and he knew exactly the place.

As he returned to the lab, his hands full with food, he noticed that Bruce still wasn't up. _Good. That'll give me time to make coffee. _He cleaned a table, and put the food there ; turned on the coffee machine and poured himself a cup. As he waited, he read the paper lazily, sitting back in a chair, sipping his coffee. A few minutes later, a clean-shaven Bruce Banner emerged out of the other room. Clean-shaven, yes, but still sleepy. And adorable. Half hidden behind his newspaper, Clint watched him shyly but directly move to the coffee maker, pour himself a cup and drink it. Almost immediately after that, Bruce woke up, his eyes opened wider, and he seemed to have a clearer vision, for, as he looked around, he saw Clint and stopped every movement. Clint, on the other hand, was aware that he had put the paper down to watch Bruce, with a huge and a bit mocking grin on his face.

For a while, they both stayed still, watching the other. Bruce had the same clothes as yesterday, and it really looked as if he had slept in them. If he had slept _at all _; he had huge bags under his eyes. Clint frowned. What was the man thinking ? That by starving and not sleeping he would keep the other away ? Is he stupid ? Fortunately, there was little else to criticize Bruce with, so he would most likely begin with the thinness and the bags. And the clothes. But as he found a way to formulate his discontent, Bruce spoke up. "I'm sorry, I thought that it was a colleague. Who made the noise, .. and the coffee. I would never have .." Bruce seemed to be struggling for words. _I ought to offer him a dictionary._ That was too late for mean remarks, Bruce's nervousness was too adorable to be mean, and the way he was standing, not quite sure if he should stay, had him smiling like a fool. Again. "Sit down, Banner. I'm not gonna hit you." After a few seconds of hesitation, Clint picked up the paper and added, "The food's for you, too".

Clint made every effort to keep reading, but the letters seemed to dance on the paper. Plus, Bruce had chosen to sit down and eat, and that was far more interesting. To keep a good figure, he kept the paper a few minutes more, but, deciding he had had enough, he put it down one last time, and decided to nibble at the food. "Something interesting, in the papers ?" he heard Bruce asked, very quietly. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, apparently nervous. _That's my fault_, thought Clint. _If I hadn't leaned so close yesterday night, he would be more comfortable around me. _The only answer he found was too rash for his tasts, but just as he decided to stay silent, the words came pouring out of his mouth. "You do know it's only seven in the morning, so really, there could be no one else to bring the food. You and I are the only people who don't leave this place." Half hurt, half surprised, Bruce answered in a small voice. "You didn't leave ?" "You don't leave, I don't leave. You're stuck with me, Banner." After a few seconds, he added : "Eat up. Today we're going jogging."

The expression of shock on Banner's face was priceless. In his hand, half of a bear claw he was eating rested between the table and his mouth in a frozen movement. Bruce let out a little noise that got Clint to believe that jogging was a punishment. Clint needed to watch himself ; Bruce was getting more adorable by the second. First sleepy, than nervous, and now astonished. It was all Clint could do to stay calm and not push the table, get Bruce up and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. He wanted to, so bad, he realized, maybe because his lips were parted in a perfectly round o, or maybe because he was attracted to him, simply. Maybe, well, that was sure actually, it was both. But Clint decided to stay good and reasonable, especially if he wanted Bruce to come out jogging. "But .." Bruce started to say. In a second, Clint came back to reality and focused on his words. "I can't go jogging. I've never jogged before. And, what if .. What if the Hulk .." "The Hulk will stay where he is and behave, I'm sure of it. Besides, I need the exercise, and I can't leave you alone. So, really, you don't have a choice. Eat up."

Bruce got his attention back to his bear claw and watched it as if it could help him. Finally, he managed to say, in a strangled voice : "I'm going to need more coffee." Clint roared with laughter as Bruce, with a little smile on his lips, got up and got himself another cup of coffee. As he calmed down, Clint followed his advice and picked up the first thing he could, and swallowed it. He hadn't had food since last night, and, with everything that had happened, he needed it. He was about to eat something else when Bruce asked : "How come you don't leave ?" Clint shrugged. "I'm not really allowed to leave, you know." With an even smaller voice, Bruce asked another question : "But if you could, would you rather be some place else ?" "No." The answer had come to him straight away, without thinking about it. It surprised him, but apparently not Bruce, as he smiled sweetly, satisfied by the answer, and started eating again.

Clint was not, however, satisfied by his answer. He should have refrained himself enough to think about it. And even if he did think that way, it was not for Bruce to know, but only himself ; for liking someone, he had found in Budapest with Natasha, is a weakness. Clint didn't tolerate weakness in himself. But he forced himself to stay polite, and nice. He ate and drank, and after half an hour, he pushed Bruce to go change. "You can't go jogging in that. In fact, I'm not sure you can do anything in those clothes. You ought to wash them, sometime." Bruce blushed. "I was going to change, I was ! It's just that .. I smelled coffee, and that's my priority in the morning." Slightly embarrassed, Bruce got up and went straight to his room. It was more of an studio, really. Clint had never seen it. _Maybe one day he'll invite me. _Clint smiled at the idea. That could be interesting, too.


	5. Chapter 5

It took Bruce another ten minutes to get ready, during which time Clint, already prepared, paced back and forth in the lab. He even exclaimed, at one point: "We're going jogging, not to a ball. You don't have to look pretty." But Bruce had apparently, and this is his own words, "nothing to wear." He even added: "It's not like I do sports." That amused Clint a great deal, but even then his patience was growing thin. Weirdly, it all disappeared when Bruce finally arrived. Clint stayed frozen in astonishment for a second or two. Bruce looked .. _ridiculous_. The shirt was too long and the shorts too small, and seeing him in sneakers was quite shocking. But the worst was the expression on his face: pain, tension, and apprehension. Trying not to laugh, Clint managed to say: "You look, erm… fantastic." But even he could hear the laughter in his voice, and Bruce was now offended. He started to leave, but Clint stopped him. "I'm sorry ! I didn't mean to upset you. It's just…you look a bit comical. That's all." "I don't want you to find me comical." Bruce's answer sprang to him, and, even after a few seconds, Clint still didn't know how to answer. Instead, he chose to say "We should go, if we want to be back by nightfall."

They left the building, and Clint got Bruce to a small square where he stopped him. "All right. First, let's stretch." Bruce looked almost ill; no doubt he was dreading what was coming next. "Relax, Banner. I won't kill you, I promise." He started by showing him how to relax and prepare his muscles for the run, and then proceeded to show him the correct way to breathe when running. But Bruce was too nervous to even breathe properly: at one point, Clint had to put his hand on Bruce's stomach, and press it gently. "There. Breathe with your diaphragm, Banner. It really helps." But the touch seemed to have knocked the wind out of Bruce. He watched Clint utterly shocked, holding his breath. He looked completely stunned at Clint's proximity, and at the familiarity of the touch. For a second, they both stood completely still, looking at each other. Two pairs of eyes locked into the other. It seemed to Clint that the whole planet had stopped moving around them, as if they were all frozen in the touch. It was the first time Clint touched Bruce, really touched him, and he didn't want to let go. Quite the contrary. He wanted to put his other hand on Bruce's lower back, to surround him, literally. He wanted to get closer, slowly, and allow Bruce to get closer to him, too. He wanted Bruce to understand how much he wanted him. _One kiss. Just one. I can be satisfied with that._ He lowered his gaze to Bruce's lips, parted in surprise. They looked so delicious.

He almost leaned in, but at the last second he remembered who he was and who he worked for: SHIELD was everywhere. They didn't need to know, or see, what he wanted to do. He snapped out of his fantasy, and out of Bruce's control. "Breathe!" he exclaimed, and, as if electroshocked, Bruce escaped Clint's touch and started breathing again, exactly the way Clint had instructed him to. That was a relief. "Okay, you're ready. Now let's go." Furious at SHIELD and their spies, and especially at himself, Clint started running slowly, so that Bruce could follow him. Completely lost, Banner stood where he was for a split second, not knowing what to do, before deciding to stick with Clint. Who was quite thankful for that: as much as he wanted to avoid SHIELD's spying eyes, he didn't want to leave Bruce either.

For a while, they both ran in silence. Clint focused on keeping a straight mind, and Bruce focused on not tripping. He followed Clint like he followed him the night before, street after street, trying to keep up. But he was not a soldier; he had no training, and running, he found, was too painful for every one of his muscles. He even hurt in places he never thought could hurt while running, but for the most part, his back, knees and ankles throbbed. He tried to work through it: he didn't want to disappoint Clint. But he felt ill, and so he stopped and leaned forwards, hands on his knees, trying to get his breath back. Clint, on the other side, was still running, unaware that Bruce had given up. He ran and ran, until he decided to check if his running partner was okay. When he realized he was alone, Clint frowned, and turned around. He ran back to where he came from, only to find Bruce sitting down on the pavement, still out of breath.

"Are you okay, Banner?" Bruce nodded and got back on his feet, painfully. "I'm not made for sports…I guess we'll just have to ask Tony to install a running machine in the lab." Clint laughed. "That'd be nice, but why would we do that?" Bruce seemed unsure. "Well, I can't go running again, and you said…you needed exercise." "Just admit it: you want to see me practise." Clint just wanted to tease Bruce, but Bruce was apparently too tired to notice. "Can we go back now?" he asked, moaning like a child. Once again, Clint found himself fighting the urge to kiss him. Instead, he said: "Take a cab, Banner. You look as if you're going to faint." And, with no further warning, Clint ran off. He knew he wasn't supposed to leave Bruce, but he really needed to run away form him, from everything he held. He had known Bruce was having quite a strong effect on him for a while, but now it was just getting ridiculous. He would go directly back to the Stark Tower, of course, since he didn't trust Banner on his own, but he decided he would go running some more during the night. He, too, needed exhaustion.

When he entered the Stark tower, it was nearly nine in the morning and the tower was full of people. He took the back entrance, as usual, and ran the flights of stairs one by one. When he arrived, out of breath, he looked, almost frantically, for Bruce. He was nowhere to be found, but Clint couldn't have outrun a cab. He had to be here, somewhere. He went straight to Bruce's studio, and called out. No answer. Where was he? He turned on the lights and found a very messy room. It wasn't dirty, per se, but he had stuff _everywhere_. Papers on the floor, untouched food on a table filled with books, and even the bed wasn't made. Clint stared at the mess, smiling to himself. _So he has flaws_, he thought. _That's nice to know. _He went back to the lab, where many of Bruce's colleagues were already working. They didn't seem to notice him, but they were enjoying the food that was left from their breakfast. Clint scanned each of their faces to see if Banner wasn't hiding in their midst. That would be a first, but still.

He was not there. _I lost him_. Clint started to worry, and then got angry. _How could I have lost him? You stupid little… _He cursed at himself, trying to think of where Bruce could be._ I should have never left him in the middle of the city alone._ What was he thinking? But he wasn't, obviously. He was too consumed by his desires to do his job. _I need to be replaced_, Clint thought, almost sadly. But as he was considering going back to look for him, a very ill-at-ease Bruce Banner emerged from the doorway, trying to hide himself. He was red-faced, and still looked ridiculous. His hair was messy and tangled, and he was clearly sweating. Clint laughed from relief. He wanted to kiss and kill him at the same time, but he resolved himself to wait and see if Banner would be able to cross the room.

And he did. He was trying so hard not to get noticed that he crossed the room ever so slowly, hugging the walls. He looked so cute, Clint thought, amused. Like a mouse in a trap. Eventually, when Banner arrived at his studio, he noticed Clint. He stopped, and then turned even redder. "Barton! I-uh…there were no cabs. I had to run back." Clint laughed, and said sweetly as he got closer to the door: "Sometimes I wonder if you're a genius, or just a very smart idiot." He pointed a finger at Bruce. "Never do that again. I was worried about you."


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the day slowly passed. Clint had gotten back to his nest and spent the day trying to read Bruce's papers, exercising, or half sleeping. He was keeping an eye on Bruce through all of it, of course; but Bruce had never looked more adapted. He was almost cheerful, and he was socializing: a young man, apparently new to the building, had noticed Bruce was alone, and so he thought it good to go and work with him. They spent the day talking, showing each other what Clint viewed as stuff, for lack of a better word, since he didn't understand it at all. _They're showing off_, he thought, and he knew then he didn't like this guy. As a SHIELD member, this new relation was both good and something to watch; but as Clint Barton, he didn't like it one bit. He just wanted to punch the new guy. _I hate new guys. _But Bruce seemed happy, and that was an improvement. And so he let it go, opened the same book as he did all day, trying hard to keep up with Bruce's reasoning. But there was no point in that: gamma radiation still didn't interest him. And so he resolved to wait: soon, people would go home, and he'd have all night with Bruce.

When the clock struck five, the scientists left the lab one by one. However, the new kid and Bruce stayed. Clint frowned. He had never witnessed anyone wanting to stay after five in this lab. Apart from Bruce, of course. But this guy and Bruce seemed too wrapped up in an experiment to go anywhere, and so Clint watched as the two men talked and laughed. _I really don't like this guy_. After what seemed to him to be an eternity, he decided to get into the lab himself, but he didn't want to be noticed. As much as he wanted to kick the new guy in the nuts, he also wanted to give Bruce an opportunity to get better, to be himself again. After all he had been through, he deserved it. So he ever so quietly entered through the back and settled down to wait in the shadow of Bruce's studio.

An hour or so after that, the other guy finally decided to leave; but not before taking Bruce by the hand for a second and giving the most offensive smile Clint had ever seen. During this split second, he wanted to kill that guy. He even regretted leaving his bow and arrows in his nest. Then again, he was so furious he could have killed him with his bare hands. Thankfully, he left before Clint had time to move, leaving Bruce apparently very confused.

"The next time that guy touches you, I'm gonna punch him in the face."

The words came tumbling down of his mouth before he could stop them, full of anger. Bruce jumped, and turned around. His face was red, and he seemed now confused and embarrassed. Clint felt the need to apologize, but his words were too true: if this guy ever attempted anything again, he knew that would end up badly. Instead, he said, "I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted that out there." After a long silence, Bruce blurted out: "I'm sure he didn't mean to…well…touch me. I'm sure it was just…a friendly gesture." "He was friendly, all right. A bit too much for me." Bruce smiled awkwardly. "That's not what I meant." "I know what you meant, Banner. But you're too blind to see this guy likes you." Bruce frowned as Clint walked slowly to him. "But…why ?" Clint laughed merrily. "Have you looked in a mirror recently ?" He shook his head as Bruce looked ever more confused. After a few seconds, it hit him. "Oh," was his only reaction, and immediately after that, he grinned. "So, what are we doing tonight ?" Clint shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever you want."

Clint found himself hypnotized by Bruce's smile. He had never seen him smile like this, and it pained him to think that this asshole was responsible for that. He wanted to be responsible for that. He wanted to make Bruce smile, and laugh, and be happy. He was the one who cared about these things. It pained him and angered him to realize that Bruce could want anyone else. He hadn't thought about it until now, never thought Bruce would _think_ that way. But he did, and now Bruce could be slipping away. He had to do something. But Bruce looked at him and must have seen what was on Clint's mind, because he quietly said, "You know, that was the first time someone touched me, I mean really touched me, since I left the US, after my accident." Clint looked up at Bruce for a long time and, before he could realize what he was doing, he walked to him and said. "That wasn't touching, Bruce." He grabbed his lower back with one hand, pulled Bruce closer to him, and kissed him. His lips crushed against Banner's with intensity, and Bruce's response was instantaneous. Clint knew he had been wanting to do that for a while, but he had never quite grasped the possibility that Bruce would want it too. Now that he had, he realized that his imagination didn't match the reality. The way Bruce's lips moved against his was quite incredible, and soon he felt his own heart throbbing. Quite like another organ of his…but he shouldn't go too fast: Bruce, even as he was now, might not be able to handle all of the things Clint wanted to do to him right now. And so, with a lot of regret, Clint pulled back slowly, and heard a little moan come out of Bruce's mouth. He smiled. "Now, _that_ is called touching."

He stepped back and meant to leave, but before he could do anything, Bruce pushed him towards his desk, trapping Clint between himself and the desk. He immediately proceeded to kiss Clint again, and they both opened their lips. Bruce was breathing heavily, and placed his hand in a tight grip around Clint's hips. Clint, on the other hand, had no idea Bruce could have wanted him that much, no idea he could be so passionate. He felt light headed, and he had to put his hands on the desk to secure his position. In the meantime, various objects fell to the floor with loud cracks, but neither of them gave it much attention. They were both out of breath, but neither wanted to let go; Bruce, it seemed, was as hard as Clint, for, as Clint pulled him closer, he could feel the bump that his crotch formed. He could feel all the tension in his body, and the electric jolts that his kiss was providing him. He could feel his own desire burning his veins as Bruce pulled away to breathe, but what could he do ? It was a miracle Bruce handled that much, how much more till a catastrophe?

They looked at each other, panting. Clint could read Bruce's desire in his eyes, and he was sure Bruce could read his. As Clint was about to speak, they heard voices coming from the locker room. "I'm sure I heard things break. Maybe someone broke in!" Before the intruders walked in, Clint gently pushed Bruce aside to go hide in the shadows. He put a finger on his lips to indicate Banner that he shouldn't say he was here; and as Bruce attempted to look less messy, two men walked in. "Oh, sorry to barge in, sir. We thought we heard shattering."


	7. Chapter 7

Bruce looked, confused, at the two security guards.

"Shattering, yes. I, uh .. I dozed off on my desk, and I must have moved in my sleep, since, uh .. Well, the noise woke me up." Bruce then proceeded to smile, to look apologetic ; but even he knew that wasn't going to work. "I'm sorry it drove you here. I didn't mean to disturb you." He cleared his throat. He could almost feel Clint's mocking grin on his skin as the two security men exchanged a look. _Please work_, he was pleaded in his head, over and over again ; he wanted them gone so that Clint and he .. Clint and he what, exactly ? He couldn't believe what he had just done ; it was so unlike him ! He had forgotten himself completely, he had forgotten for a moment who he was, and what he could do ; and even though all he wanted was to reach out and grab Clint, to get him naked on the very spot, and to just .. just do things to him, touch him, kiss him, fuck him, even ; but he could not. He was the Hulk, he was a _monster. _He wasn't worthy of Clint.

Suspicious, one of the security guards lifted an eyebrow. "Well, next time please be careful : what you broke was surely expensive." "I will, no worries." After looking around, one security guard gently pushed the other towards the exit, and once again, Clint and Bruce were alone together. Bruce didn't know how to react ; he felt like he needed to tell Clint they were never going to do _that_ again, but most of him still wanted to jump his bones. "Well, that was rather easy. Did you take acting lessons as a child ?"

As Bruce turned to Clint, he already had his little speech in mind. _We can't do that anymore. We can't kiss, we can't .. be close. That's too dangerous. _All that was left to do was convince Clint that it was all a bad idea.

He was leaning against a wall, relaxed, and was genuinely smiling at Bruce. Not his usual mocking grin, or a pitiful smirk, but a smile ; right now, he looked more handsome than he ever had. That was bad. Really bad. Bruce took a deep breath and opened his mouth to talk, but Clint stopped him right away. "Don't." He stepped out of the shadows to stand opposite Bruce, on the other side of the desk, and put his two hands flatly on the surface. "Don't think, or over analyze this. And don't you dare put the Hulk into this." "But we kissed !" Clint let out a crooked smile which made Bruce lose all his train of thoughts : right now, in this moment, he didn't regret anything. The kissing, the grabbing ; none of it mattered. He wanted Clint _so bad_. "Yes, Banner : we kissed. And I'm quite sure we will do it again." As Bruce was about to protest, Clint went round the desk and stood next to him. "And if the Hulk does come out one day, I am sure he will be very civil and will allow your normal awkward self to come back to me." _Have you met the Hulk ? _Bruce wanted to ask ; instead, what came out of his mouth was : "I am not awkward."

As he so often did when Bruce remarked on his words, Clint roared with laughter. "Yes, you are. Now, will you stop protesting and let me kiss you again ?" Bruce's initial reaction was to want to shout yes, but instead, he decided he should be the reasonable one, and so, with regret, he said : "We shouldn't." Clint grinned, grabbed sweetly Bruce's shirt and pull him closer. "That's okay : I wasn't really asking for permission." And, without further warning, and before Bruce could find the strength to break free, Clint kissed him one more time. Unlike the first time, he was sweet, and more gentle ; but Bruce, as much as he wanted to, couldn't respond. He had to prove that he could resist ; that he could do the right thing : but it seemed impossible. The pressure of Clint's lips against his felt too good to be ignored, and he could also feel his own body, his own heart, yearning to get closer. Against all his wishes, Bruce felt the compulsion to rip Clint's clothes apart, to feel his skin against his own ; and he was quite sure Clint could feel it too. He resisted it, and all of his urges, until he could no more ; at which point he felt Clint's lips leaving his, and heard, so quietly : "See ? No Hulk."

Clint's lips has stayed close to his, and he could feel his light breath as he spoke ; all of that was driving him mad. He had to break free, one way or the other, before he lost himself completely. It was easier said than done, however ; it seemed like he was under Clint's compulsion. He wanted so much, but what he wanted and what he desired were two completely different things : what he _needed _was simple. He needed more. More of everything : more kisses, more touching, more Clint. He felt so infatuated, and the person who was supposed to keep him safe was now putting him into so much danger : not from the Hulk, because Bruce couldn't get hurt by him ; but by Clint himself. _I am his. Completely and utterly his._ And that terrified him.

As he looked up, he saw the look in Clint's eyes : a mix of worry, affection, and genuine concern. It seemed like he was going to hug him ; it seemed like he was going to just leave. Instead, he smiled, just a little, and whispered : "Wanna see something cool ?" Their foreheads were touching, and they were so close that, in the darkness, you could mistake them as one. Bruce was both feeling afraid and safe, and when he replied "Yes.", he felt a wave of relief hitting his body, spreading a warm feeling right up to his fingertips : Clint was opening up to him.

He felt giddy, and excited, as Clint slowly broke free from him : he had become a teenager again, discovering the joys and fears of first love. He felt like he was fifteen, and nothing bad had ever happened to him : Clint had somehow managed, in that moment, to make him forget everything. And when he took his hand and directed him to the exit, he knew Clint wouldn't let anything happen to him. And that felt good : Bruce was becoming Bruce one more time. The Hulk was _not _going to ruin that.

As he often had these past few days, Clint directed him through the City. At one point, though, he stopped a cab ; opened the door, and, smiling, he said : "After you.". Bruce was feeling more and more giddy, he knew it was ridiculous, and stupid, but he couldn't help himself ; and, when they were both sitting down, he could feel Clint's thigh against his own, and even if there was cloth in the way, Bruce could swear he could feel Clint's skin. He was properly mad this time, imagining things. But still, he could tell that Clint had not sat close to him for no reason : and right now, in this cab, the pressure of their thighs was enough.

"Where are we going ?" "You'll see ; but let me warn you : there are a few flights of stairs." Bruce frowned, but Clint kept silent right up to the moment the cab stopped. As he stepped out of the car, Bruce realized where he was, and looked up. " A _few_ flights of stairs ?"

They were both standing on the sidewalk, on Brooklyn Bridge, at the foot of one of its towers. Clint laughed, and whispered in Bruce's ear : "But wait and see what's waiting for you up there." Once again, he took Bruce's hand and started climbing up the stairs, obviously excited, as he jumped the steps two by two. Bruce, on the other hand, knew his endurance and decided to walk the whole way up. At least he would be alive when he gets at the top.

Obviously, Clint had arrived before him, and he had said it was beautiful ; but nothing prepared Bruce for the view at the top of the tower : it was breathtaking. He could see everything, and, at this time, the lights were starting to be turned on ; it was quiet, but in the heart of everything. He couldn't believe it : he felt dizzy, he felt joyous, he was in awe. And all thanks to Clint.

After a long glance at the City, he turned to see where they were standing. The tower was thick : a dozen people could easily stand side by side and not fall. It was truly perfect.

"And if your monster decides to visit, you can easily push him to the river." Clint's voice startled Bruce a bit : he had forgotten for an instant he was there. He was closing the door of the stairs, and then proceeded to sit in the center, so that he could see everything. But Bruce couldn't sit : he felt like he owe it to the view to watch it a little bit longer. He wandered around the edge for a while, conscious of Clint's eyes on him ; but the feeling of being on top of everything empowered him too much : he needed, for a second, to be drunk on the feeling. And, when he felt he had enough, he went and sat by Clint's side. "Thank you, Clint. That was just what I needed."

"Do I get a kiss thank you ?" Clint raised one eyebrow, smiling. Before Bruce could move, or give his answer, Clint had already straightened up and was placing his lips upon Bruce's. This time, he had to move fast, and without hesitation, he got Clint to move closer to him ; and this time, Bruce promised himself to keep control. He may not have initiated the kiss, but he was now the one who was leading it : it was his tongue that first entered Clint's mouth. Slowly, playfully, he drew a trail with the tip of his tongue on Clint's palate ; he could feel Clint's yielding, as if he wanted Bruce to take control too. As if he was saying : "We'll go as far as you want." And they would go far : Bruce was already starting to yearn for more, all of his desires awakened once more. His hands quickly found an opening to Clint's skin : he was barely aware that he was almost ripping Clint's shirt off as he felt, when Clint did get as close as he could, one of Clint's hands wandering along his waist. Now, he was sure, there was no denying it : he could never stop wanting that, this closeness, this yearning, this desire. He needed much more than he wanted at this point. He was lightheaded, and his heart was thumping in his chest. As soon as he could, he took off Clint's shirt and just put his palms on his skin ; it seemed on fire, and, as his fingertips explore his chest, he felt that his heartbeat matched his. They were both out of breath, and soon Clint left Bruce's lips to look at him. Bruce could see desire burning in his eyes, and, without fully realizing it, he gently turned Clint's hips, and sat on him. He locked his hands on Clint's wrists and pinned him down sweetly. Clint just bent to Bruce's movements, amazed to see him take control and keep it. He just said, quietly : "If you stop, I'm gonna strangle you."

Bruce, amused, replied before kissing him again : "I'm not planning to. Ever."


	8. Chapter 8

Bruce found it incredibly hard to keep Clint's wrists in his hands, both because Clint was fighting him a little, moaning under Bruce's kisses on his neck and jaw ; and also because he couldn't keep his own hands away for long. But he was decided to stay on top of things, to make Clint as hard for him as he was, even more, if he could ; and so, with his hips, he slowly managed to rub Clint's crotch and his together. That, combined with his tongue playing on Clint's skin, kissing, biting, caressing, had Clint panting : his head was leaning backwards, eyes closed, lips parted. Bruce was sucking the skin on his neck, ever so slowly, and the small moans that came out of Clint's mouth had him panting as well : he wanted so much to get Clint totally naked, but how could he do that with no hands ? He had thought about releasing Clint, but playing with his skin was too good : he never wanted to do anything else ever again. But, as he leaned closer to Clint to get to his nape, he heard him whisper : "Let me get you naked." It was tempting, of course, to be truly skin against skin, but if he did, Clint would get all the control back. It wasn't such a bad thing though, quite the contrary, he decided ; and so he let go of Clint wrists, decided to stroke his fingers against Clint's back. Soon after that, though, he had to leave his back ; for Clint was keeping his promise, and was taking Bruce shirt off quickly. As soon as he had, he unbuckled his pants, and Bruce was too fascinated by his hands to do anything but watch.

A few seconds after that, he was completely naked, and subject to Clint's contemplation : with a small smile, and with the help of a finger, he inspected Bruce's skin, but made no move to change their position. It was his turn to go kiss and play with the skin of his lover ; and Bruce, closing his eyes, dived his hands into Clint's hair, pulling him closer, as if _that_ could be possible. The two men's limbs were closely intertwined, and Bruce had continued to dance with his hips. At one point, even, he had started to stroke Clint's cock through his pants with his own crotch. That sent a shiver through Clint's spine, and, almost immediately, his hands found the buttons of his pants and pulled them down as he could. Now he was naked as well, splendid, all in muscles : he was the most beautiful thing Bruce had ever seen. He wanted to look at him forever ; his arms, his abs, his thighs and legs ; the way his body moved and felt underneath his fingers ; he was truly perfect. He wanted him inside him, he realized, not for the first time : but now it was more of an urge, a necessity, but also a promise : wasn't it what they were building to ? Without being aware, he opened his legs and spread them across Clint's hips : he could now feel his own cock resting on Clint's stomach. When Clint kissed him once more, he felt the smile on his lips more than he saw it, and when he felt Clint's fingers getting closer to his penis, the thrill of it all sent jolts of electricity through his veins. He gasped, and threw his head backwards in pleasure ; but he truly felt dizzy when he heard Clint moan : "God, I want you so bad." _Me too_, would have thought Bruce, if he could think. His head was full of images, of fantasies and feelings. His mind, it seemed, had stopped working ; but his body was still animated. He couldn't form words, so he used his last flash of mind to clearly state that it was time : he lifted his hips to let Clint find his ass, and Clint, who had been waiting for this, didn't let the occasion pass. Gently, slowly, he directed one of his fingers into Bruce's anus and, surprised to see it so wide already, pushed himself in. As he did, he could hear Bruce taking deep breaths, shivering as Clint was moving inside him. Soon, as he felt Bruce's ass get wider, he pushed another finger : he had wet them, to help Bruce get ready, and he was now letting him lube his own hole. With his other hand, Clint stroke Bruce's penis quite ardently : he wanted to see Bruce come so badly he could do pretty much anything. What he was doing was working, though : Bruce felt like he was going to explode. Involuntarily, he was fucking himself with Clint's fingers, and with each thrust, he dug his fingers into Clint's back. But he wanted more, once again : he straightened up in order for him to go breathe in Clint's neck, and slowly, he whispered : "Get in me. Now." That was all Clint wanted, and he took off his fingers, a bit too quickly maybe, but he just couldn't wait anymore. With both his hands he softly stretched Bruce's ass, and penetrated him with one stroke. Bruce let out a little cry of pain mixed with a lot of pleasure as he felt his cock throbbing against Clint's skin. He pinned the palms of his hands to Clint's nape. This time, both of them were moving : Clint was leading, thrusting in Bruce's body, and Bruce followed his movements, a bit more slowly. It seemed to him that he could faint any minute now : the intensity of the pleasure he felt seemed too much to handle ; and yet, with each movement back and forth, he felt more and more pleasure.

The two men were now physically closer than they ever thought they could : it was impossible to make out where one started and the other stopped. They were facing each other, forehead against forehead, breathing in the other's moans and cries ; Bruce had his eyes closed, crushed under the waves of pleasures hitting him ; but Clint had his wide open, taking in Bruce's face as he moved inside him. Little by little, he thrust faster, wanting to see Bruce forget everything else but his bliss ; he could feel Bruce's penis between them, the only barrier standing between the two men's stomachs, and he wanted so bad to make him come. But he knew he wasn't so far off himself, and so, completely forgetting everything else but Bruce and his pleasure, he put one hand around his lover's penis and found it as hard as a stone ; gently, he stroke it as he kept thrusting into Bruce, harder, quicker ; and Bruce, who had totally let go of everything, was soon crushed under waves of pleasure, hitting him, one after the other. His seed surprised Clint, but also made him bolder. Bruce was in his arms, looking at him, out of breath. His lips parted in a smirk, the first one Clint had ever seen him do ; but as he noticed him, he perceived that Bruce has closed his ass completely around his cock, and was now proceeding to do the back and forth himself. Clint had never felt like this ; it was unbelievable : he could feel his penis stiffen even more, a thing he would have never thought possible. Bruce was making him feel so _good_, and he was taking control once again. That, combined with Bruce's movements, made him climax, quickly and violently, into Bruce's ass.

For a long moment, they both stayed silent, unmoving ; Clint had his eyes closed, but Bruce couldn't keep his gaze from him. Closer than ever, they listened to each other as they tried to regain proper breathing ; Bruce felt like a rag doll into Clint's strong arms, and he still couldn't think properly. The things Clint had made him feel were still too present, too real ; he had not yet recovered from his orgasm, and even if he had, he was not sure he ever wanted to leave Clint's arms, and this moment, here and now. It hadn't been his first time, but he had never felt so much, experienced as much, never had it felt so good. He couldn't believe what he had just did, letting go of everything, then taking power over someone, back and again. Then, slowly, reality kicked in.

He was still in Clint's arms, facing him. But he had realized what he had just did, all the dangers had put him through. He wouldn't have missed it for the world, but still, it was incredibly stupid of him. He must have stiffened a bit, for Clint hold him tighter, and opened his eyes. "Don't freak out." Bruce stayed silent, but his alarm showed in his eyes. He promised himself to stay calm, if he ever could manage to leave Clint. But he made no move to leave, he couldn't ; what they did, where they went together was heaven. Bruce was an idiot, but not that much. He just wanted Clint to understand his fear, to share it, take things slow, be sure that there would be no surprises. No danger. "I'm here", he heard, "nothing bad will happen to you." "How about they happen to you ?" Bruce's voice sounded hollow, hurt. He couldn't believe he had felt this blissful a few minutes ago, and now so scared ; and Clint apparently couldn't either, as he let go of Bruce's back, to see if Bruce wanted to go. But, more than that, not one of them moved a muscle. After a minute of complete silence, where all the world around them seemed to form, Clint said, ever so quietly : "Let me tell you this once, and never again : you're not gonna hurt me. And I'm not gonna leave you. Take that and get it into your head." After a few seconds, he added, a bit more loudly, as if he wanted it to matter : "I want you and I will settle for nothing less. Now stop fretting."

* * *

So yeah, that was that. My first attempt at smut !

Please review and tell me what you thought about it.

Personally, I can't read it without laughing .. I hope you liked it !


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry I am so late at updating ! **

I moved to Glasgow and started working, so I've been quite busy ..

But here is the next chapter ! Enjoy.

After the episode on the roof, Clint and Bruce unwillingly got separated. After a few hours of peaceful bliss, Clint had received an important phone call from Fury, urging him to get to the SHIELD headquarters as soon as possible. They had rushed back, and within ten minutes, Clint had packed his stuff and left. That was three months ago.

Since that, Bruce had had no news from anyone at all, nor had he means to ask for them ; Clint had told him he wasn't supposed to know that he was being "looked after". But his patience was wearing out, and he was more and more worried : what the Hell could have happened for Clint to just leave without saying goodbye, and for his surveillance team to vanish into thin air ? Something important was surely happening, or else Fury would have kept him monitored. But what, though ? What could possibly be so big that needed everyone's attention ? Bruce was half glad they kept him out of it, for he didn't want to be involved ; but at the same time, if he were, he would know where Clint was. Or even how he was.

So he resolved to waiting. He figured that if he pushed himself far enough into his work, he could forget about what was happening outside of the tower ; forget about Stark, Fury, and the whole lot of them ; and surely, forget about this man that drove him nuts. And the upside was that he could surely get somewhere with his theories, since he spent every waking minute glued to his desk.

Unfortunately for him, even if he would have been able to forget about SHIELD, SHIELD hadn't forgotten about him : one morning, he found Fury waiting near his desk. He looked absorbed, but didn't fail to notice that Bruce had come in.

"I was never one for science .. I much preferred physical exercise." he said, as he turned to face Bruce. "How do you feel, Doctor Banner ?"

"Just wondering what you're doing in my lab." Bruce felt paralyzed ; he had no idea what to say, or do. Should he just stand there, hands in his pockets to cover the fists that were already forming ; or just step up to his desk and continue working like nothing was going on ? _What does Fury want with me ? _

It was another few seconds before Fury chose to respond, leaving the equipment he was observing, standing tall in the middle of the lab. Only a few seconds that got Bruce's heart to skip a few beats.

"We had to sent agents to Russia. Secret mission, no need to get you involved. But I'm sure you've noticed that agent Barton isn't around anymore."

"When the person supposed to spy on you decides not to show up at work for a few months, you do notice, yes."

"Spy on you ? No,no. Agent Barton was here to see after your well-being."

Bruce let out an ironic chuckle. "Call it what you will ; I still have a baby sitter. And no answer to my previous question, so I'll just repeat it. What do you want ?"

Once again, Fury decided to put his attention on Bruce's stuff. For a few seconds, the question hung in the air ; Bruce still paralyzed on the very spot. His heart was racing at the thought that something could be seriously wrong : what if something had happened to Clint ? What if he was hurt, or even worse, dead ? Bruce felt sick, and hot, and he wanted to run away. That, or take Fury and shake him until he blurted out his purpose for coming here. He was started to get angry, too. Angry at Fury, for taking Clint away from him and putting him in danger ; angry at SHIELD for existing ; and mostly angry at himself. He should have asked what was going on weeks ago. He should have helped.

"Banner is coming back. Not in a bad shape, but he's a bit wound up."

Fury's words acted like balm on Bruce's anger. Suddenly, he had made it all okay ; the man he so desperately longed for was coming home. To him, he hoped. And then he said something to make Banner see red : "I'll send him home, but I'm pretty sure he'll be coming here. So be prepared, and tell me if anything happens."

This time, Bruce didn't bother hiding his fists. A flash of green went through his face, and his voice sounded like it was made of steel. "I am not spying on agent Barton for you. If he decides to show up, he will, and I will take care of him if he wants me to ; but don't you dare think for a second that I will report back to you." He could tell Fury had his hand on a gun, or maybe an alarm button, ready and waiting for Bruce to explode, for the other guy to take his place, but Bruce had secretly practiced, and he was now able to control his anger to a certain degree. Yes, he could feel his heartbeat panicking ; yes, he was aware that, if he let go for just one second, he would give way for the hulk to show. But not this time. Not tonight. Clint was alive, against all his expectations, and he was coming home to him. Tonight, Bruce had a reason to hang to his human self ; and so he calmed his heart, slowly, carefully, still glaring at Fury. The Director was astounded, but still on guard, still waiting for a catastrophe. Bruce spoke up, very calmly : "Now, if you don't have anymore to say, I would like to leave."

They both waited in silence, until Fury finally relaxed and let go of his hold on his gun. Bruce could distinctively hear other guns being put down ; he had guessed Fury hadn't come here alone. And Bruce was proud : he had successively shown them he could control himself, and so, without waiting anymore, he decided to take his jacket and leave. Just before he got to the door, he turned around. "Oh, and .. Did you really think guns would have helped you if the Hulk had come out ?"

Fury shot him a smile. "Never can be too careful with you, Doctor." Bruce rolled his eyes and muttered "idiots." as he passed the door.

* * *

In the plane that was getting them to New-York, everyone was strangely silent. Clint was sure that they were all thinking about a shower and a bed ; but he himself couldn't think of anything other than Bruce. He was anxious to know how he was doing ; see if he hadn't starved without him, if he had remembered to shower, shave or change. He smiled at the thought of going back home to a very beard-y Bruce, still in the same old wrinkled clothes, glasses on his nose or in his hand. He wondered if he had noticed he was gone, if he would smile when he saw him. He wondered whether Bruce had missed him or not, and hoped for a yes.

He would get to his apartment first, to shower and make sure his bruises and cuts wouldn't show. He didn't want to scare Bruce his first night back. Although, he thought, he could play the poor wounded man ; Bruce would have no choice but to tend to his wounds. That could have been fun, if he had chosen to let Bruce see the damage ; but he hadn't, so a quick trip to his apartment first was a must.

They were still a couple of hours away from the airport, but, as his colleagues relaxed, he tensed up : he had no idea what he was coming home to. What if, when he was away, the Hulk had decided to show ? What if they had taken Bruce away ? What if he could never see him again ? All the questions his brain had chosen to ignore this past months resurfaced as the flight was nearing its end ; and it hit Clint with doubt and fear, again and again. He tried to close his eyes and imagine the beautiful man he had left behind that night ; but the images of that night, their night, were blurry ; and it was all started to crumble as Clint's stress level rose dangerously fast. He wanted out, he wanted to feel the earth beneath his feet. He had been gone longer than he thought, too long. He needed to see Bruce again, quickly. He needed to know everything was okay.

He tried pacing, but as the mechanic voice of the pilot resonated, he had no choice but to sit down and wait ; a couple more minutes, he thought._ In a couple more minutes I'll be out in the open, and then I'll take a shower and tend to the bruises like I said. Nothing has happened._ He would have known if it had, they would have said something .. wouldn't they ?

As soon as he got off the plane, Clint fumbled in his pockets to find his phone ; it wasn't that late, Bruce was certainly still working. With any luck, he could reach him, tell him he's coming back. But as he searched, he could tell he wasn't left alone : each agent was escorted home. Safety measures, they said. Make sure no one talks to people they shouldn't be talking to, he knew. But that made no difference to his plans, so he let them take him home ; if anything, it was saving him cab money. He rushed past the front desk, didn't bother to take his mail, took the stairs four by four, open his door. Finally, he was home. Without thinking, he dropped his bag ; and, heading towards the bathroom to finally take said shower, he took off his shirt ; passed in front of the kitchen and stopped at once.

"Well, shirt's already off. Someone's clearly happy to see me."


	10. Chapter 10

Here's a small chapter, just to say :

I'm sorry, again. Didn't mean to make you wait as much.

But I haven't forgotten about Clint & Bruce, oh no.

Enjoy.

* * *

"Bruce !"

Clint stood there, frozen. A large smile was spreading slowly across his face as he looked at Bruce. God, it was amazing to see him again.. He would have rushed into his arms and kissed him, shagged him on the very spot even, if he hadn't noticed Bruce's hands, the nervous toying with his fingers, or his uneasy smile. He looked like crap : like Clint had predicted, he had a scruff, and was wearing old tattered clothes. The perfect mirror of how he remembered him ; but unfortunately, he, Clint, had much changed.

He noticed Bruce hands slowly curling into fists as he carefully looked at Clint's exposed torso and stomach : the cuts and bruises spread across his upper body. As his eyes stopped at the huge haematoma spreading through one of his rib cage to his hip, Bruce's jaw clenched ; and he immediately came closer to examine it himself. "It's just a bruise, it'll heal in no time. Relax." said Clint as Bruce was putting his arm up, and slid one finger across Clint's rib cage. "It looks serious. I should check it out." Clint laughed and took Bruce's hands in his. "I'm fine. Let me just take a shower and then we can catch up." Bruce looked at him intensely ; and, to Clint's wonder, he said : "If you let me examine the bruises and cuts, and take care of them, I'll even spend the night if you want."

Clint's eyes opened wide in shock, and for half a second, he was tempted to say yes ; but then he decided to do something else entirely : he grabbed Bruce by the shirt and pulled him closer. Their lips met with intensity and hunger : both men had waited far too long for this reunion. Clint pulled away first, before getting out of breath completely, and whispered : "Two nights. One day. And not a minute less."

"You drive a hard bargain, Barton." Clint smiled, and Bruce found himself entrapped. "Fine. Two nights, one day. But don't expect me to cook." The only answer he got was laughter. Clint pulled away to get to the shower. Before entering the bathroom though, he turned around and looked at Bruce. "What on earth made you think I would allow you to leave my bed ?" Clint disappeared, and Bruce found himself alone in the sitting-room.

And he desperately needed to calm down. His heart was still beating wildly after his encounter with Clint ; the shock of seeing him again – even though he was expecting him – knocked the wind out of Bruce. He was still gorgeous (how could that ever change ? Clint Barton had been made perfect just to torture him, it would sometimes seem.), but he had gotten thinner. _I need to get him to eat_ .. And those bruises ! What a shock that had been ! The thought of Clint getting hurt was unbearable, and suddenly, he felt an intense anger as he realized it was all Fury's fault. He saw red, and in a few seconds, his adrenaline was already racing through his veins. He wanted to scream, to kick, to destroy even ; he wanted for everyone to leave them both alone. Bruce quickly realized he had stopped breathing, and, in his anger, had torn the tap he was holding in his hands. He needed to calm down immediately before things got worse ; he needed to keep the Hulk out of it. But his thoughts were all focused on Barton's wounds ; focused on the rising anger that he never thought he could feel again. He needed to breathe. Desperately so. Everything was heightened, nothing made sense except for the rising hate pouring through his veins. He could even start to feel his grip around the hulk falling ; he could feel that it was a matter of minutes before it took control. That wasn't good, that made him panic ; he started violently shaking. Rage. That was all he could feel now.

Until he felt something else. A slight touch, almost nothing. A light kiss, on the edge of his neck.

And suddenly, it all disappeared.

Bruce opened his eyes, frozen ; the anger had gone in a blink. Replaced by a new sentiment, an overwhelming feeling that took him completely by surprise.

Bruce was in love with Clint.

It seemed so normal, so simple, that he hadn't noticed it before. But it was now all he see ; with this one simple kiss, Clint had unlocked feelings that Bruce never knew he had.

"Are you okay ? You seem .. tense." Clint eyed him cautiously. Bruce looked down for a second, regained his composure and looked up again. "Yeah, I am tense. Pissed off, really. But that doesn't really matter now, you're home."

Taken by surprise, Clint smiled : a huge wide childish grin that comforted Bruce in the idea that he needed Clint more than he knew. He turned and started rummaging through Clint's kitchen, and then the bathroom, to find what he needed to take care of Clint.


	11. Chapter 11

For the next hour or so, Bruce took care of Clint's wounds, one by one, with delicate care and patience. He treated every bruise and every cut with the same tenderness and concern. During that time, no words were exchanged ; the only noise breaking the silence was the one made by Bruce's movements. But there was no need for words yet, and Clint knew that Bruce liked to work in silence : he had observed him enough to know that much. And so he let the silence linger, just for a little while longer ; he had all night with Bruce to make up for lost time. Besides, there was something very intimate about being comfortable in silence ; a proof that there was a real bond between them, not just something Clint had made up in his mind. Not to mention that the feel of having Bruce touching, even lightly, his skin, made him intolerably happy : he was reunited with him now, and nothing could go wrong. He wasn't about to leave him again any time soon. He waited patiently as he was being taken care of, looking at Bruce when he could, observing his hands, his movements, his face, his expression. He noticed the bags under his eyes, the pounds he had lost, and the hair, much longer than the last time he saw him. He was clean, there was no doubt about that, but it was clear he had no idea how to take care of himself.

As soon as Bruce stepped away, finished and content as to how he handled the cuts, Clint pulled him back closer. "You look like shit, Banner. Don't get me wrong, you're still hot, and I like the scruff. But other than that, you look like shit." Bruce looked down, a tiny chuckle escaping from his lips. "Yeah, the last months have been quite stressful." He looked up again, stared into Clint's eyes. "I liked the freedom, though." Clint laughed. "Did you ? And what did you do with it ?" A small silence, then Bruce's words knocked the wind out of Clint. "Mostly wishing you were around. You know, so we could have both made the most of it."

"I'm around now."

"Where were you ? Why didn't you call ?" Bruce knew he was being irrational, that Clint probably had no choice in any of it, but he couldn't help himself : he had felt abandoned, truly and simply. He had felt like Clint had had his fun, and had left him behind. Like he was yesterday's trash.

And that was stupid, very stupid of him to feel that way, since Clint clearly wanted nothing else that being with him right now, but what about the last months ? Had he wanted him then ?

Clint looked, sadly, into Bruce's eyes. "I'm sorry I left you. I wish I had fought to stay, even a while longer, to explain." After a few seconds of silence, he added, ever so gently : "Will you forgive me ?" He stood up, putting his hands on Bruce's neck, and made him look at him. He could tell, Bruce knew, that he had already been forgiven ; but he still wanted to hear it. "You're an ass, and I hate you." was all that Bruce could manage to say under Clint's stare ; and the immediate laughter erupting from Clint's lips made him chuckle too. "You're a liar, Banner." "No, you really are an ass." Clint laughed again, shaking his head. Bruce looked at him, smiling. He wondered if he had laughed much, these past weeks ; if he had time to have a bit of fun, or if he had been chained to whatever he was doing 24/7. "So, what have I missed ?"

They were still standing a few inches away from each other, Clint's hands on Bruce, Bruce fidgeting a little ; still locked on each other, as if nothing else mattered. Bruce tried to think of something witty to say ; he was the smart one after all, or he was supposed to be, at least. But he thought of nothing, lost in Clint's eyes and smile ; he could think of nothing else than the obvious pleasure he was feeling, to be finally with Clint again, nothing else than the memories he had kept of their short time together so far. "Not much. New York's been dull." Clint's eyes were smiling, evidently mocking Bruce. But who cared ? Bruce stepped closer and hugged Clint as tightly as he could, burying his face in his neck, letting all the memories resurface. "Never leave again." Faintly, as suppressed by emotion, he heard : "Never again." He closed his eyes. Right now, at this time, it was more than he wished for. More than he had dared to hope for. Reassured, he pulled away. "How about dinner and a movie ?" Clint proposed, and this time, Bruce found the right answer : "If you mean order in and tv, then yes."

"Junk food and bad tv it is."

It seemed easy, then, to fall back in old habits : Clint mocking Bruce sweetly, Bruce feeling and being awkward every time Clint was in the room ; both of then starting acting like children towards each other, kissing and playing, making fun of the other's shortcomings.. Never had it felt so easy to breathe, Bruce thought, than when I am with Clint ; he had a way of making everything so uncomplicated, and so fun. Bruce could gladly spend the rest of his life living like that.

The rest of the evening passed in the blur. Clint made Bruce go back to the lab to get all his stuff - "Two days isn't going to cut it" he had insisted – and made him change, had cut his hair (he now looked like a weird short-haired person, but Clint was very proud of his work; Bruce hadn't had the heart to tell him that he would go to the barber as song as possible), forbade Bruce to touch his scruff ("That looks hot.") and forced him to eat all that the fridge held. Bruce had fought him on this ; his point being that Clint looked thinner than Bruce ever was - "Thin, but muscular. And hot, too." had insisted Clint. Bruce still didn't know how he should take it- and that he needed food the most. They argued for a few seconds before Bruce stuffed cheese into Clint's mouth. Shocked, Clint stayed still for a second, swallowed, and tilted his head slightly. He seemed to be planning his next move, and Bruce barely got time to duck before Clint grabbed the butter. "I dare you to come closer." Instead Bruce got up and got back ; but Clint, feeling playful, followed him everywhere, butter in hand.

They spent at least a few hours chasing each other and throwing food everywhere ; most of it was stale or mushy, and so it stick all over the place. Never had they felt like such children : Bruce running everywhere laughing, Clint, covered with cheese and ketchup, behaving like some sort of monster. Bruce couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this much, and Clint largely took advantage of that : every time he would make a face or a noise, Bruce would crack up completely, allowing Clint time to aim and shoot. At one point, in the middle of the night, Clint jumped on Bruce and wedged him under his arms. He then proceeded to kiss Bruce's nose and said : "I won."

"Yes, you did." Bruce smiled, happily. They both stayed in this position awhile, staring hungrily and smiling at each other, before Clint rolled over and lay next to Bruce. He took his hand, and they both stayed silent. Like earlier today, the silence was welcome, as it meant both men just needed each other. They looked at the ceiling, happy and full of food, not thinking, before Bruce spoke up :

"This has got to be the best date of my life."

"Just you wait for the rest, handsome."


	12. Chapter 12

**I am so late at updating .. Sorry !**

**I'd give you excuses, but we all know you just want to read on. **

**And to be forgiven, I give you .. Smut !**

**Enjoy !**

They had spent the next hour or so lying on the floor, hand in hand, listening to the various noises around them : neighbors coming home, cars in the street, ambulances wailing.. They had exchanged no words, no glances ; they were content with just being there. Having the other one near. Bruce could not help smiling brightly, smugly. He was happy, more happy than he had been in a long time. God, it felt good.

And when Clint interrupted the silence, he turned his head sharply.

"You do know that, when I get back to work tomorrow, I am gonna boast about you, right ?"

"Yes." was Bruce's only response, his smile still stuck on his lips.

"And you're okay with that, hum ?" Clint's smile was answering Bruce's, their faces being only a few centimeters away from one another.

"Oh, yes." Bruce got nearer, and put his lips on Clint's, gently. It was a chaste kiss, but Clint took the opportunity, and made his move. In a second, he easily topped him, and kissed him vehemently. Bruce circled Clint's neck with his arm, caressing, with the tip of his fingers, his skin ; and already, he could feel Clint's excitement, hear it in his breath, and he played with it, moving his stomach closer to Clint's. Clint moaned and pulled away, loosing Bruce's shirt, taking away his own ; and when he came back to Bruce, he aimed for his chest, leaving a trail of soft kisses along his skin. He lingered on his stomach, biting it sometimes, looking up to see how Bruce looked.

And it was delightful : his eyes were closed, and he was chewing on his lower lip, looking positively bewitching. But Clint wasn't about to stop there ; he got lower, and with the tip of his tongue, followed Bruce's belt line, caressing Bruce's croft over his pants, which got him a first moan. Clint shivered with pleasure and unbuckled Bruce's pants. He waited to make him wait, ask for it even, but he himself was too impatient. In a few seconds, he got rid of them, and satisfied himself with the view.

It was clear by his erection that Bruce had forgotten what it felt like to be excited ; Clint could tell that it has been as long for him as it was for Bruce, and, without further ado, Clint let his lips run across Bruce's cock, teasing it, kissing him. That got him his second moan, a loud, hoarse moan while Bruce tilted his head backward, one of his hands hiding his face. Clint smiled : he almost forgot how delicious it was to make Bruce moan, to give him pleasure. He loved it, and so decided to raise his game : it was now the tip of his tongue softly running on his cock, now and again he kissed him, and even started to suck it at one point. Now, _that_ got Bruce's all quivery. His reflex action was to grab Clint's hair, begging for more. And more he had.

Too happy to make Bruce happy, Clint started sucking him. First, slowly. But when he picked up the pace, Bruce's moans were more than a reward : he could feel Bruce's hand ruffling his hair, his hips dancing under his mouth. Clint went on sucking, watching Bruce as he did so, sometimes stopping to see if Bruce would protest, if he wanted more. He sucked on his balls, too : he kissed, nibbled, licked, stroked. In short, he was driving his boyfriend mad ; and he loved it.

Bruce's pleasure was intense ; waves of delight hit him, one after another, carrying his worried and doubts far away, leaving him with only Clint and his mouth in mind. It was good, it was marvelous ; and he couldn't help but want more, all the time. He was sure he could live of love alone ; it now seemed silly to want anything else. Clint carried him to a place where the feelings he could get from his own body were too much and yet not enough ; Clint, in a word, carried him to ecstasy.

He soon came, and that made Clint smile felicitously. He removed his mouth and listened to Bruce's panting, completely happy ; he straightened up, looking at Bruce, content with himself.

"Told you to wait for the rest."

Bruce burst out laughing, but made no movement ; his body felt weak, like he had just run a marathon. His heart was pounding, too.

He opened his eyes a little, to glance at Clint ; smiled, and ..

"God, I love you."

The words slipped out, completely naturally, as if he'd said it a dozen times already. It wasn't a big declaration, nor was it shocking. It came out as if it was the most normal thing to say, as if he had never known any other state of feelings. It wasn't grand, it wasn't romantic ; but Clint, it sounded like the most beautiful thing ever said.

He kissed Bruce, sweetly, faintly. He whispered, close to his lips, that he loved him, too.

It only took a few seconds, but it was clear to them that their lives would never be the same.


	13. Chapter 13

The few minutes that passed after that were lost in kisses and smiles. They felt stupid, idiotic ; but they couldn't care less. Who was there to judge, anyway ? And it would have gone on for a while if Bruce hadn't whispered, softly, in Clint's ear, two magical words that threw Clint over the edge.

"Fuck me."

And he was happy to oblige.

All the clothes they wore were scattered on the floor around them, and Clint, on his knees, had pinned Bruce's hips on his legs, and was now obeying his boyfriend's wish. This one was laying on the floor, eyes on the ceiling, hands in fists : he was already dancing on the edge of intense pleasure, moaning, unashamedly, loudly for more. The thrust of Clint's cock inside him was far more delightful than he had hoped for, and feeling his muscles move against his skin .. He was happy, he was blissful ; and he owed it to Clint. One, two, three, four. Bruce arched his back and begged Clint to come closer.

He put his lips on his, at once, breathing and moaning into Clint's mouth, smiling, looking at him. His thighs, spread wide, circled Clint and followed every movement ; his fingers were running on Clint's back. The only thing between them was Bruce's cock, rocked by the two stomachs it was laying against, throbbing.

They stayed in this position a couple minutes more, moving only their hips ; before Clint straightened up, thrusting harder into Bruce who was coming, panting. It was another couple of minutes before he came as well, observed by a smiling Bruce, with his eyes half-closed.

...

"Now, what ?" whispered Clint grumpily as Bruce's phone rang.

They had lain in each other arms, on the floor, half-dozing. Clint was on the verge of falling asleep, with Bruce caressing slowly his hair. It had felt perfect, until that bloody call.

"It's Tony." answered Bruce. "I should get that."

He sat up, pushing Clint aside softly. This one grumbled, got up and disappeared in the kitchen as Bruce answered the phone. He was planning on making a sandwich, but he soon remembered that his food fight with Bruce had left him without food ; and their shagging had made him hungry. He grunted, closed the fridge and settled for a glass of water. In the living room, he could hear Bruce awkwardly answering "Tony", one okay after another. He smiled to himself ; Bruce had gotten much more candid with him, but apparently it was still a problem for him to socialize with other people. It made him more happy than it should have ; but the idea of Bruce being comfortable only around him was quite delightful. It was selfish, too : it would ensure that Bruce would always rely on him in social situations, and it would also mean that he could have him by his side some time longer.

He lingered in the kitchen, even after he heard Bruce hanging up, waiting for Bruce to come to him. He did not wait long : a shy, half dressed Bruce Banner entered the kitchen, looking apologetic.

"Bruce is inviting us to a cocktail party. He says we have to come. I couldn't say no, I'm sorry.. You know how he can be. Clint couldn't help but laugh. "Black tie ?"

"Yes."

"Perfect, an occasion to see you all dressed-up." Clint kissed the corner of Bruce's mouth, amused, and walked to the bathroom to get washed up. Bruce watch him leave, unable to decide what to think. On the one hand, he really wanted to have Clint declare to everyone that he was his, but on the other hand, he wanted to keep him to himself for while longer. He was still debating to himself, wearing nothing but his pants, looking away when Clint came back.

"Are you going to go dressed like that ? I know you're hot, but I might jealous of all the attention you'll be getting." Clint was playful, he could tell, but he was not. "Do you think everything is going to go okay ? I mean, I might not stand that everyone is going to be on edge the moment I walk in. I know I'm dangerous, I don't need everyone to keep reminding me."

Clint came closer and grabbed Bruce by the shoulders.

3A few months ago, you said you would never get close to anyone because you could hulk out at any moment. And look what happened : you have got close to someone, you've kissed him, shagged him even. And no Hulk. You're going to be fine."

"But what if I'm not ?"

"You will be. I promise."

"But what if ?" Bruce looked anxious, staring at Clint, which he found adorably cute. He pulled him close and hugged him. "If there's a problem, we'll leave immediately. I'll keep you safe. I'll keep you not green. I would never ask you to do something you're not ready to do, or could not handle. We're going to be okay, I swear. Trust me ?"

Bruce had pinned his face on one of Clint's shoulders, and mumbled, grumpily : "Always.". That was enough for Clint, even better than that : he was happy. He kissed Bruce's head and pushed him slightly. "Now go get dressed."

"But I don't have a suit.."

Clint stared at Bruce with a little smile : "I swear, every time I think you can't get any cuter, you actually do."

"I'm not cute. I'm the Hulk." Bruce made a face, growled and showed his muscles.

"Yeah, well the Hulk needs to wear trousers, so just go get a suit in my closet." He strolled away while Bruce smiled slowly. "Can I get a shower first ?"

"Are you asking for my permission ?"

"Now, I'm actually asking if you would wash me."

Bruce saw Clint's head from the other room. "Bruce Banner, are you flirting with me ?"

"I might just be."

"Just .. Get a damn shower before I decide to fuck you on the kitchen counter please." Clint's head disappeared again as Bruce started to laugh and headed out to the bathroom.

…

"Clint ! How do you tie .. well, a tie ?"

Bruce was struggling with his shirt when Clint, with a huge mocking grin on his face, showed up to tie Bruce's tie. In a few quick moves, the deed was done and Clint took a step back to look at Bruce. "Well, don't you look smart." Bruce smiled and put on his jacket. "Shut up. Are you ready ?"

"I was twenty minutes ago. But it's no secret that we men need to wait for Hulks to get ready, as they take so much time to shower .. What exactly were you doing in there ? Thinking of me ?"

"Oh, you wish. But I was too busy thinking of me."

Clint took his most melodramatic voice.

"Alas, that is a burden we all must bear ; our green god is far too present in all our minds."

"Just get your coat and let's go, smartypants."


	14. Author's note

Hi everyone !  
I'm sorry you got your hopes up when you saw the e-mail, but this is not going to be a new chapter.

In fact, there probably won't be a new chapter to this story, not before a long time anyway.

The two main reasons for that is first that I am working full time, and I have a lot to do all day, and even in the evenings. The second reason is more private, but what I can say is that I've been battling with depression, self-doubt and huge amount of self-deprecation for quite a while now, and there are days where I end up having no will to do anything, and so I just mope around. Some days are better though, and I try and enjoy these days with people, trying to go out, trying to get back on the saddle.

I am really sad about this decision, because there were so many adventures waiting for Bruce and Clint. Their first outing, the reaction of their friends, meeting with family, and probably some hulking out to save the day at one point. But I feel like this is the thing to do. I think I've strung you along for a while now, making you believe a new chapter could be coming in at anytime. And I'm really sorry for that. I'm a reader of fanfiction as well, and it frustrates me that I've become the authors I hated for this.

The last thing I want to say is thank you. Thank you because I never thought that one of my stories could get the public this one had, even if I can't compete with all the big ff authors, I really am grateful for everyone of you. Thank you for reading, for commenting, for liking. Thank you for your patience, and thank you for letting me write my Bruce and my Clint.  
So again, sorry and thank you. You guys are the best. I can't say this will be the last we will see of each other, but for now, this is goodbye. I love you all. Apolline, aka rainbowguard

PS : I'm on twitter ( wormstachios) if you want to come to talk to me there :)

PPS : Here's all that I've written of chapter 14, just to say thanks. Again.  
It's not much, but it was a start ..

_"This is a nightmare._

Clint chuckled as Bruce muttered away, fidgeting. "Now, now. It's not all bad. The food is top-notch." "Yes, I know. This is your fourteenth canapé." "Are you saying I'm _fat_ ?" Clint tilted his head, playing with Bruce's mood. He engulfed another canapé before putting his arm on Bruce's waist.

"Come on, let's go mingle."

In the centre of the enormous hall where Tony was hosting the party was the host himself, dazzling his audience with his new gadget ideas ; and his girlfriend Pepper, a smile frozen on her lips, looked positively bored, as if she was hearing the same speech for the tenth a corner, Rogers was trying to fit in, but the only person he'd talked to so far had a knack for talking politics ; and the Captain could not quite keep up, and so he frowned and looked ready to flee. Natasha was laughing and flirting away ; and the rest of the party seemed fixed on her.

Neither Clint nor Bruce knew half the people present ; and Clint, with ease and a smile, conversed with everyone easily. Bruce, on the other hand, stayed behind and observed. After a few minutes, he left his boyfriend to go rescue Steve and ended the politician's long speeches with a smile.

"Now, Governor, you look like you need a drink ; help yourself to some champagne !" He pushed him away delicately and rolled his eyes towards Steve, who thanked him shyly. "How did you get into this ?"

"Tony_ made_ me." Bruce laughed at Steve's whisper, but secretly he loved it : he was not the only awkward man in a suit that night. Silently, he thanked Steve, and, later on that evening, helped him escaped the unending line of fans wanting to get a piece of him."


End file.
